


To Those That Came Before

by SarbearOkami



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: HeartGold & SoulSilver | Pokemon HeartGold & SoulSilver Versions
Genre: Crossposted from Nuzforums, Multi, Nuzlocke Challenge, pokemon gijinka
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23088106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarbearOkami/pseuds/SarbearOkami
Summary: A slightly altered HeartGold run. Encounters set to Similar Strength for variety and that's about it.A Gijinka run with a small twist. Follow Tymon the Nervous Wreck in attempting to be independent.
Kudos: 1
Collections: Nuzlocke Forums Content





	1. A Strange Discovery

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all,
> 
> This run is crossposted from Nuzforums for ease of reading. You can find the forum thread here: https://nuzlockeforums.com/forum/index.php?threads/to-those-that-came-before-a-slightly-different-heartgold-run.19268/

The papers in Tymon’s arms cascade to the floor as he yelps, wobbling precariously on the ladder only to clutch tight to the shelves in front of him. He curses in his mind, damning his own clumsiness as he makes his slow way down the ladder to retrieve the fallen papers. Tymon should know better by now, he thinks, yet here he remains, still dropping things like some incompetent intern on their first day.

No, he reasons, sometimes he feels _worse_ than a new intern. He scrambles to gather the papers in an untidy fashion, bolting upright upon seeing a familiar redhead making his way over to him. Cinder and Tymon share the same last name only in casual terms. There is no blood between them whatsoever yet Cinder still insists on having Tymon as a part of his family. While Tymon is infinitely grateful of everything Cinder gives him, he can’t help but feel like giving him such a job is nothing short of pity. He’d never voice this to Cinder himself though.

“Tymon, just leave those.” Cinder says as he comes to a halt. He barely lifts his non-existent gaze from the clipboard he carries, scribbling down something innocuous. How he can see, now one knows.

“But Cinder, these papers need to be filed by noon, you told me that yourself this morning!” Tymon replies. He shuffles the papers into a somewhat orderly fashion before plonking them on one of the shelves. “Why stop me now?”

Cinder’s head finally lifts to face Tymon. He taps Tymon on the nose with his pen. “Got an email from a colleague of mine. Says he’s found something I’ll want to see. Unfortunately, I’m preoccupied so I need you to run this for me.”

Tymon deflates visibly, “You mean… leave town?”

“Yeah.”

“Like… _leave_ leave?”

Cinder sighs. “He’s only in the next town over, you can manage that, can’t you?”

Of course, he could, Tymon thinks, but would is a whole other matter entirely. Many situations flit around his head, worst possible events occurring on the short walk over to Cherrygrove pulling up from the depths of his mind to torment his stressed conscience. “I- Yes. Okay.”

“Tymon, your wringing your hands again.” At Cinder’s reprimand, Tymon lets his hands fall. “Listen, if it’s that much of a pain, why don’t you ask your friend to escort you. What’s his name again? Zack, Zane-“

“Xander.”

“Yeah, that guy.” Cinder ruffles Tymon’s hair, displacing the slicked back look he’d worked hard on that morning. “Go ask him if he’s able to hang with you.”

Tymon considers It for a second before nodding. Yeah, he could manage this. With a brisk goodbye he leaves the lab.

\---

New Bark Town is a small town, even by town standards. More like a village. Besides Cinder’s lab, there are few houses, maybe five total. One is Cinder’s himself, where Tymon lives too, but the rest are occupied by other scientists besides one. The sole non-scientific occupant sitting in his front yard, apparently asleep.

Tymon admittedly didn’t know much about Xander, besides them being roughly the same age, and that Xander had narcolepsy that he often passed off as ‘meditation’. He sees this now as he approaches, hearing the Heracross snooze gently, lost to the world. Tymon waves a hand in front of his face to no response.

“Hey, HEY, Xander.” He says. Xander stirs a little, peeping his golden eyes over his large blue scarf that obscures most of his face.

“Tymon.” The greeting is barely one, and very curt.

He perseveres regardless. “Xander, I need to leave town for a bit.”

This statement catches Xander’s attention, and the Bug type awakens fully in an instant. “Oh? You, leave town? Are you feeling well?”

Tymon laugh sarcastically at his tone. “Yeah, yeah. Funny, I know. But Cinder’s orders. Can you come with or are you going to make me go alone?”

“Hmph.” Xander huffs. He closes his eyes again. “I don’t think that my presence will help any. You are almost twenty-three, Tymon. You should know how to travel.”

The fact does hit hard, and Tymon hates it. Cherrygrove is the farthest he’d ever been in his whole life, and Tymon hates every minute he has to leave New Bark, let alone having to leave _alone_. It’s something that feels like it should be an irrational fear, yet no matter how often Tymon tries to leave the cosy town, he only feels uncomfortable and on-edge. “Please would you consider?”

Xander thinks for a moment before standing up. “I will escort you to the first clearing, but you can find your way from there. I need to return to meditation soon.”

Code word for nap, Tymon thinks. But he’ll take what he can get and follows Xander as they make their way to the town entrance. New Bark is entirely surrounded by forest, so most ways out of town look the same, the only difference being the denotation of a sign saying “Welcome to New Bark!”

Before they leave, Tymon sneaks a peek back towards the lab, spying movement near one of the bushes nearby. He sees a head of green hair and comes to a halt. “Wait, Xander. Look.”

Xander observes the individual. The person is shorter than them both, with a side part of green hair. He stalks around the window of the lab, peering inside. He’s someone unknown to either of them. Xander frowns invisibly. “Hm, a punk who is up to no good, I bet. You should go ahead; I’ll help Cinder get rid of him.”

“Wh- Hey! What about my escort?” Tymon’s words fall on deaf ears as Xander walks away. He straightens his tie indignantly. “Fine. Whatever. If I die under mysterious circumstances I’m blaming you.”

He leaves Xander to his business and shuffles into the neighbouring forest. The path to Cherrygrove is clear-cut but winding, and anxiety builds up in Tymon’s chest the further he walks in. The tree canopy casts an almost oppressive shadow on the Totodile, but he shoves his discomfort aside as he pushes on. Every now and then, Tymon swears he could hear the leaves above rustle unnaturally, feel something following by the chill that runs down his back. His muscles bundle up in anticipation, accelerating his pace until he’s almost running through the trees.

Something lands behind him with little sound, causing Tymon to jump out of his skin. “AaaAAAH!”

His heartbeat pounds in his chest and he examines the ground, finding a single large apricorn behind him. Tymon put a hand over his heart To be spooked by an apricorn of all things, really!. He resists the urge to pick up the apricorn and hurl it at the nearest tree in revenge, only to be interrupted by a chuckle in the treetops. “A bit jumpy, eh?”

Tymon peers up towards the canopy to spy a young man in yellow laughing away at his expense. His curly yellow hair bounces with his laughs, with two black-tipped ears peeking out of the blonde mess. A Pichu. Ugh, Tymon frowns and decides to just walk away. No point in dealing with an Electric type today.

“Hey, HEY, Water Boy!” The Pichu yells. He casually walks along the branches of the tree like he was on the ground, easily keeping up with Tymon. “Aw come on, it was a little funny.”

“Leave me alone, Pichu.” Tymon replies. He hugs his arms to his body and speeds up to a jog, displeased to hear the other following him. Tymon comes to an abrupt halt. “Stop it! I just need to pass through _not harassed_ , thank you.”

“Harass? I’m not harassing you.” Electricity sparks at his fingertips and Tymon feels a zap to his back. He yelps. “Now _that_ is harassment.”

At this point Tymon sees Cherrygrove ahead of him, and sprints to get clear of the trees as soon as possible. It works, the Pichu doesn’t follow him into the town but instead hangs around the forest entrance sulking.

“Thank heck for that.” Tymon sighs. He wracks his brain, trying to remember which colleague of Cinder’s lives in Cherrygrove. As far as he remembers, there is only the one that lives just beyond the town. Luckily for him, the trek isn’t as bad as travelling from New Bark.

\---

Cinder’s colleague lives in a small cottage in a clearing in the forest. It’s not much to look at besides the copious amount of apricorn trees that grow in the area, no doubt tended by the scientist who studies them. Tymon shambles up to the door, tapping the knocker three times before shuffling to stand behind the doormat. He’s ever good at these things, and Tymon had only been to this house in particular a few times. The door opens to reveal a jolly old Furret with his ears poking out from underneath his hat. “Ah, Tymon? It’s been a while since you’ve visited.”

“Uh huh, yeah…” He mumbles in reply. Tymon figures the last time he’d been here, he was a spry lad smackdab in the middle of puberty. Five years at least, and Tymon had since filled out his lanky limbs somewhat. “I uh, Cinder is preoccupied right now so he sent me instead. Is that okay?”

The Furret, Dr. Tobias, if Tymon remembers correctly, frowns. The sight is enough to make Tymon’s stomach sink. Years of working for Cinder and this is still the reaction he gets. Clearly whatever Tobias had for Cinder was way too important for Tymon to handle. “If…If you need to give it to Cinder directly, I can let him know?”

“Hm, never mind. Come in.” Tobias opens the door wider for Tymon to enter. He has a faint recollection of the interior, though what interests him most is the large pale object sitting on the dining table.

“What… is that?” He asks. Tobias strokes the fuzz on his chin.

“What, indeed. This is what I want Cinder to look at. I’ve never seen anything like it.” He puts a hand on the smooth surface. “He’s the best mind in the area for this kind of thing, considering how many things he’s documented. Found this thing way in the forest while I was searching for wild apricorns.”

Tymon touches a finger to the object. “It’s… warm?”

“Living, my guess. A living rock, can you believe it? And not like any Rock type I’ve seen. No limbs or anything.” The idea baffles Tymon. Even infantile Rock types have limbs and a face, not like the smooth beige and green surface of this thing.

He gently picks it up, feeling the weight in his hands yet can’t help but think about how fragile it feels. “Okay, got it. I’ll deliver this to Cinder as soon as possible.”

“Careful with it. It might be one of a kind.” Tobias warns. He escorts Tymon to the door to see him off. “If you find out anything don’t hesitate to send me an email.”

“Will do, Dr. Tobias. Thank you.” Tymon tips his head slightly before walking back to Cherrygrove.

The object feels strange in his hands, and is large enough to be awkward to carry, but Tymon tries his best to hurry back as soon as he can. He can’t shake off how unnerving it feels to feel something so warm, yet obviously not alive like anything he’s seen. Living rock indeed. Maybe a seed of an endothermic plant they haven’t discovered yet. Wouldn’t _that_ be a find.

His thoughts are halted as a body smacks into him right as he was about to leave Cherrygrove, the beige ‘seed’ spiralling away from his grasp across the ground. Tymon yelps, quickly assessing it for damage before breathing a sigh of relief as no damage is found. He scowls at the other person. “Can’t you watch where you’re goi-“

Tymon cuts his sentence short as he sees the other’s face. The same green side part, yet one side of his face horrifically bright red with a burn that looks as fresh as fresh can be. He snaps his jaw shut, flushing with embarrassment, instead extending a hand to the other man. “Oh-Oh heck, are you okay?! You should go to the hospital.”

The other only glares at him with what Tymon can only describe as pure irritation. He shoves away Tymon’s offered hand away. He stands up on his own, quickly darting around Tymon to take off. Tymon notices a card on the ground, picking it up and only managing to read the name ‘Lore’ before the card is snatched from his hand. Up close, Tymon can identify the other as a Chikorita, yet never seen one as cranky as this man. The Chikorita spots the object in his hand and shoves the card in his pocket before grabbing Tymon by the shirt. His eyes are manic and Tymon almost gags at the smell of burnt flesh. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll destroy that thing before you lose that chance.”

He says nothing more before disappearing into the distance, leaving Tymon dazed and confused. Destroy… the object? There’s no way he could. Despite the uneasiness he feels, he disregards it and moves on. For good measure, he checks the treetops he passes for any signs of cheeky Pichus but finds none.

The smell of burning still sticks to his senses, and no matter how much he tries he can’t shake it. What on earth happened for such a wound to occur in the half hour Tymon was gone? He scans the canopy again and abruptly stops at the sight of black smoke spiralling into the sky.

…

…Huh?

There’s no way.

But Tymon can’t deny it as he follows the trail towards… New Bark Town. In an instant, all that anxiety he tried to suppress springs up into his throat, so cloying he almost can’t breathe. Part of him tells him to drop what he carries and run, but the better part of him yells at him to _hurry up_. And hurry up he does, and Tymon soon finds himself full on sprinting towards his hometown. The closer he gets the thicker the scent of smoke becomes, and he finds it harder and harder to breathe.

Somewhere close to the town entrance, a familiar yellow-headed rat spots him and blocks his way. “Hey, Water Boy! You can’t seriously be going back there, can you?”

“It’s _you_.” Tymon states. He makes to move around the other but the Pichu keeps blocking him. “Please move!”

“Dude, the town is on fire, you can’t be _that_ stupid.” Pichu says. He grabs Tymon by the shoulders. “Seriously, _don’t_.”

“I said _move!_ ” Tymon shoves the object into Pichu’s arms before sprinting ahead.

What awaits him in a blazing lab that reaches higher than the treetops around it, numerous people already on the scene trying to assess the situation. He spots a slightly singed Xander on the grass some ways away from the building. “Xander! Are you okay?”

Xander coughs and pulls off his headband. “Nothing I can’t handle. But Tymon-“

“What about Cinder?”

“Cinder?” Xander’s eyebrows furrow and he looks away. “… I tried.”

Tymon wants to throw up. He follows Xander’s gaze towards the burning building and immediately assumes the worst. In an instant, every regret in his life rises to clog his brain of all thoughts. Mind empty, nothing. Nothing but the sinking despair he feels in his entire being.

Somewhere in the distance he can hear Xander, pleading uncharacteristically. “Tymon, _hey_. Don’t drift off now. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Tymon is definitely going to do something stupid.

Leaving Xander on the grass, he faces the blaze. It shouldn’t affect him that much, right? He’s a Water type. Somewhere in his mind, his common-sense yells at him that Cinder would be even better than him in fire, that he would be fine, but for once he’s not paying attention to his overly anxious mind. So many years of being too careful, and yet the one time it matters everything is thrown out the window.

He takes a running start and dashes into the burning lab.


	2. The Vital Decision

It’s hot.

It’s _too_ hot. Even for a Water type.

Tymon’s chest splutters as he coughs smoke from his lungs. The air is thick, terrible and heavy, obscuring everything within a few metres of him. Even with his resistance, the heat coming off the flames is almost too much to bear.

He ducks rubble that falls from the ceiling, sidestepping just in time to avoid the large chunks of plaster and wood from falling on him. Even after such a short time, how had the building become so unstable?! His gut tells him to run, but he pushes these thoughts aside, instead leaping over some tipped flaming furniture to delve deeper into the lab.

“Cinder?!” He yells into the flames, almost completely drowned out by the roar they produce. More rubble falls, catching his shirt sleeve and he puts out the embers in a hurry. Damnit, the fire’s only getting hotter and hotter. Tymon feels more useless than ever. He should know better. He should be able to do _something_ in this situation, or what good is his Water typing? He shouts again. “ _Cinder!?”_

Tymon hops through another door, right into the room where he saw Cinder just before he left. With a heavy heart, he realises he’s still there, pinned under some rubble and unmoving.

He dashes over in an instant, stumbling over debris towards Cinder, takes hold of the wood beam that’s fallen across Cinder’s chest. Heavy, very heavy. The wood burns his palms, but he doesn’t relent. Still, the beam refuses to budge. Tymon coughs more smoke. “Cinder! Hey! You have to help me here!”

Tymon receives no response. He sees it now, the stain of dark red almost invisible against Cinder’s fiery hair. There’s no way Cinder would be waking up here. He pulls again, feeling the wood splinter into his reddened hands, and the wood budges a little. The fire creeps closer behind him, so close he can feel the hairs on the back of his neck smoulder in the heat.

Dropping the beam, Tymon faces the fire instead. Trying to move Cinder is fruitless but… as long as he can keep the fire at bay long enough for someone else to arrive, they should be fine, right? … _Right_?

It’s a foolish thing, but Tymon has to try anyway. He _is_ a Water type. Thinking back, he tries to recall the times he’s seen others do it. How others use their Moves. Anyone can use the simplest of Moves, but Tymon had never even attempted the most basic of Water Moves, fearful of failure and too fake-busy to try.

He inhales, a hard thing to do in the smoky air, and represses a cough. Throwing his hands forward, willing all of his might for a miraculous power to manifest before him and extinguish the flames. He feels it, just barely, running under his skin like cool creek water, like rain that drips off the roof in a downfall. Little hints of Water energy gathering together until he feels the dew on his palms, yet it immediately evaporates in the sweltering heat. It’s not enough.

Tymon grits his teeth. More. _More_. It surges again, this time stronger, more like a river, or a gutter in a storm. His palms are wet now. With great concentration he points a finger towards a creeping flame, and in an instant the energy releases as a small stream of water that sizzles as it hits the fire. **_Water Gun_** _._ He tries again, more forcefully, and the second stream is a little stronger than the first, putting out the small fire. But he can already feel the lethargy creeping in on him. So little, yet the energy backlash was this strong?

He pants heavily even has his knees shake. Raising his fingers, he ignores his diminishing energy to shoot stream after stream, desperately trying to hold back the fire until someone decided to come. The fire continues to roar in his ears. Surely someone would come?

His legs give out.

He fires at another flame.

He can’t breathe.

_Where are they?_

His eyes start to burn.

The tears dry immediately.

_Where?_

He hunches over Cinder.

_Why aren’t they doing anything?_

His sob is consumed by the fire.

“I’m so sorry.”

A hand grabs the back of his shirt and pulls him away.

“I can’t do anything. I’m sorry, Dad.”

The building collapses as he succumbs to unconsciousness.

\---

A steady _beep, beep, beep_ penetrates the foggy psyche of Tymon as he awakens. It's distant, but insistent, and he soon finds it irritable before it eventually fades into the other background noises making themselves known. The light is blinding when he opens his eyes, and he squints, taking in his stark white surroundings as he adjusts.

A person sits next to him, asleep, though Tymon recognises the scarf. With trembling fingers, he reaches out and tugs on the fabric of their pants. His voice is ragged when he speaks. "Xander?"

His one word jolts Xander awake. Tymon's vision clears and he notes how unkempt and dirty Xander looks, even moreso than when he saw him, just before dashing into the burning lab. The painful reminder drives a screw into his skull. The fire. The lab. _Cinder._ He peers at Xander. "He's… is he…?"

He wants to ask if Cinder is okay too but finds the question to be lodged away deep in his throat, fearful of the answer he might receive. His heart sinks when Xander looks to the ground with a tight jaw. "Cinder isn't… with us anymore. He was pinned and I couldn't get him out in time before the building fell."

Silence hangs in the air before a choked sob escapes Tymon's lips. Like rushing water, the emotions just pour out of him, uncontained. Xander simply holds his hand with both of his, ignoring the welts that form under Tymon's nails. "That's… my fault, isn't it?"

"Your fault? Tymon don't blame yourself for this. You only wanted to help." Xander replies. He squeezes Tymon's hand. "I wanted to get both of you out, I really did."

"But if I hadn't been in there, you wouldn't have wasted time getting me out." Tymon pulls his hand away and puts it in his lap. He braces himself and sits up in the hospital bed, much to Xander's worry, waving a hand at the other as he gets out of his chair. "Don't fight me on this. It's true and you know it."

Xander huffs. "I only went into the lab in the first place _because_ of you. Running into the building like that- what was I supposed to do? Let you die carelessly like that? Wait, what are you-"

Tymon pulls the fluid drips out of his arm and gets out of the bed. Ignoring Xander as he leaves, the surrounding staff don't seem to bother him as he exits, despite the beeping monitor going flat. Only one of them bothers to call out. "Hey!"

"Uh, it's fine, I'll look out for him." Xander hurriedly says, following Tymon out into the hospital lobby. Several of the lab aides are there, burns already wrapped in bandages and looking as wrecked as Tymon felt. They give Tymon a sorrowful look as he passes them. “Tymon will you _please_ wait and listen to what I have to say?”

He grabs Tymon’s arm. “You don’t know what you’re doing. You’re still hurt. Can you please rest a little bit more?”

“I can’t.” Tymon shrugs off his hand and walks through the front door. The sky is clear, unobscured by smoke. This isn’t New Bark, he realises. It makes sense, New Bark doesn’t have a hospital centre, and when he observes his surroundings he recognises it as Cherrygrove.

Xander follows him out. “You’re going back there, aren’t you?”

It’s not a real question. He knows Tymon won’t answer. It’s apparent in his aura, Tymon’s need for closure, to reaffirm that his worst nightmare was not just his imagination. Xander sighs and puts a hand on his shoulder. There’s nothing he can do but support him.

\---

The New Bark lab is a shell of its former self, blackened and crumbling like coal. Somewhere within those ruins, Cinder’s ashes may be lying there, mixing with the burned soot and utterly unrecognisable. It’s a black stain on the landscape, a harsh reminder of what had transpired here.

“How long?” Tymon asks.

“A few days ago. They’ve already done the investigation, but it won’t matter anyway.” Xander replies. He crosses his arms. “Those damn government agents came all the way here to have a look. Waste of resources.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because I know exactly what happened, and it was an accident, if anything. I don’t know what they wanted to find but they sure as hell didn’t find it.” Xander huffs and pushes his hair back.

Tymon’s face grimaces. “How is _this_ an accident? Cinder _died,_ Xander.”

“That Chikorita punk. He broke in through the window and Cinder tried to scare him off. The sparks got out of control and lit the place. An accident, just because of a brat trying to steal something.” He explains. Tymon’s face doesn’t relax.

The burn made sense now. The Chikorita, Lore. Tymon pieced it together. But why? What was the guy after?

“Tymon.” Xander’s voices breaks through his thoughts. His face is stern and serious. “What are you going to do now?”

“What?”

“What are you going to do now?” He repeats. “The lab is destroyed. The research too. You don’t have a job and you can’t upkeep the house without one. What will you do?”

Tymon considers. He thinks back to Lore again and an unfamiliar anger rises in his chest. He looks Xander in the eye. “I’m going to find that Chikorita. But first-“

The conversation cut-off is punctuated by Tymon quickly entering his and Cinder’s house. The door squeaks open into an empty house, the emptiest it had ever felt. Tymon does his best to ignore the gnawing atmosphere that enveloped the building, dashing upstairs to Cinder’s study. It’s the only place that had changed since that morning, cabinets open and papers everywhere. Like a bomb had hit just this one room.

“I thought so.”

Xander walks in behind him and his eyebrows lift. “Hm. Surprising.”

“He went through here too. _My own home_.” Tymon says. “I should’ve known.”

He peers at a photo frame on Cinder’s desk. It’s an old one, from when Tymon was a child. He picks it up and feel nostalgia wash over him. They looked so happy, back when Cinder had taken time off work to take Tymon to Goldenrod City for the weekend. He remembers it vividly, Cinder catching him trying to sneak into the Game Corner, so they compromised and took a photo out the front of the flashy building instead. The neon lights are visible at the top of the photo.

He slips the photo out of the frame and into his pocket.

“All done?” Xander asks. Tymon shuffles around the room. “I’m going to be honest with you. What are you going to do when you find him?”

“Get answers.”

Xander shrugs. “Okay, then how? Considering he broke through a window and into your house, you think he’s just going to tell you?”

“Then I’ll... I'll fight him until he does.”

An audible exasperated sigh escapes Xander. “You aren’t hearing what I’m saying. He took an Ember to the face and managed to slip off the grid, while you couldn’t douse some fires. He was disadvantaged, you were advantaged. What’s going to happen when you try to fight him, when _he_ is advantaged? Do you think you would be able to fight him?”

Tymon stills. “I’ll just figure it out when I come to it.”

Uncharacteristic anger taints Xander’s voice. “And then what? What if you get hurt? What if you _die_? Do you think Cinder would want that? You expect me to believe you of all people will leave this to _chance_?”

“Then what do _you_ suggest?” Tymon rebuts, his words biting. “What do _you_ think I should do? Just leave it? Cinder- my _dad_ is dead, and you think I should let it go?”

“That’s not what I’m suggesting at all.” Xander puts his hands on Tymon’s shoulders. “Take my advice, these things you feel, let them go; at least let their hold on you loosen. They will only lead you to ruin. Get stronger, get better, and then fight him. Become the strength you need to _survive_ at the very least.”

“But-“

“Have you considered the Gyms?”

Tymon blinks. “Huh? You must be joking.”

“I’m not.”

“But the Gyms are…” Tymon shivers. “Arduous.”

“That’s the point. If you can beat a few of those, you can beat him.” Xander’s grip tightens. “Get tougher. Who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone who will help you.”

“…I couldn’t. Those places are-”

Xander frowns. “None of that. If anyone can, it’s you. The same crazy man who would run into a burning building despite never having used Moves. You surprised me. I… wanted to go back in but my Typing… I couldn’t move until you went in. The most anxious person I’ve ever met was braver than me at that moment. And you still are. You _can._ ”

He hugs Tymon close. “Cinder was my friend too. I want this as much as you do.”

“Will you help me?” Tymon asks.

Xander breaks the hug. “I can’t. The town is in shambles, so I’m going to help them recover first. We might meet again somewhere along the road. Besides, I think I’ve helped you enough for now. Try to stand on your own for a while, okay? I believe you can.”

“…Okay.” Tymon wipes at his now teary eyes. “Okay.”

Xander leaves him with the ruins of Cinder’s study. Tymon wipes at his cheeks again and hiccups a laugh. That was the most he’d ever heard Xander say ever. He wouldn’t let those words go to waste. He tugs at his hospital uniform. Not ever.


	3. Friendship in Unlikely Places

The air is clear and the sky black as ink when Tymon leaves. It feels a little selfish, to leave in the middle of the night, though Tymon feels like he can’t handle any more goodbyes right now. Xander would understand, he concludes, watching the window light turn off in Xander’s house before he makes his move.

He skulks by the houses, casting a glance once more towards the burned shell of his old workplace before pointedly staring ahead. He puts a hand in his pocket and feels the photo folded within, a reminder of better days, and the bandage on his head burns. Gone days, things not worth thinking about for now. There’s something much more important to give thought to. He recalls Xander’s words.

_Become the strength you need._

It’s not something he’d ever given much thought to at all, being much too busy trying to be whatever Cinder needed him to be – a son, a friend, a colleague. Never thought about what he wanted to be, content playing the part given to him, no matter how good at it he actually was. In a way, treading into the unknown feels somewhat liberating, if only the circumstances weren’t so grim.

The trees of Route 29 are even more daunting in the dark, reaching to the darkened sky like ghostly limbs, blocking all but some starlight. Tymon hugs his arms to his body, trying to calm his nerves. Just a few days ago, he’d walked through here on his own, yet that feat did nothing for the shiver up his back, the shapes that show up in the edges of his vision. This is a bad idea. A bad, _bad_ idea. His entire self wants to turn around, run back home and hide under the covers like he’s a child again. Wait for the storm to pass. Wait for daylight.

There’s no thunder to hide from, unfortunately. The sky is clear as can be.

A rustle causes him to jump, heart leaping into his throat and Tymon suppresses the urge to scream bloody murder. He thrusts his hands in front of him, intending to defend himself, but stops at the sight of somewhat familiar grey eyes. “Wh- You!”

“Water Boy. You’re alive, I’m honestly surprised.” He recognises him now, from the shock of blonde hair and the pointed ears poking out from it. The Pichu that attacked him the other day. His demeanor is casual, holding up his hand in mock surrender at Tymon’s pointed fingers. “Are you gonna douse me?”

Tymon lowers his hands. “What are you doing here?”

“What am _I_ doing here? My dude, I live here. I should be asking why _you’re_ here.” Pichu replies, lowering his hands too. He shoves them in his hoodie pockets. “Perhaps running away from home? Starting a new life?”

The Totodile’s eyebrows reach for his hairline. “How’d you know?”

Pichu leans against a nearby tree. “Been there, done that. We have a certain look. When you know what to look for, you can spot a parentless loser anywhere, no matter how old they are.”

Tymon fold his arms and bows his head. A _look?_ Did he really look that pathetic? Grief written all on his face? The Pichu lets out a single low laugh. “Though of course, I was there. When they said that one person couldn’t be recovered after that guy dragged you out of that building. You’ve got some balls for doing that, by the way.”

The memory is foggy, but Tymon does recall passing the Electric type before his stupid decision. The Pichu blows a strand of hair out of his face. “Who was it, if you wanna answer?”

“Why do you care?” Tymon’s voice laces with defensiveness.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t wanna. I’m just curious what kinda person is worth running into a housefire for. Especially when it gives you that kinda injury.” He points towards the right side of Tymon’s face. He instinctively reaches up to cover it with his hand, self-conscious about the scar beneath. It’s not a huge thing, like the one he saw on Lore, but its enough to burn away the hair at his temple and the end of his eyebrow, a physical reminder of his failure.

“My… dad.” He admits, and Pichu’s face immediately grimaces.

“Dad, huh? That’s rough.” He rubs at his chin. “Mine was my mum, so I kinda get it.”

“What do you want?” Tymon asks, exasperated. “I need to leave.”

Pichu raises an eyebrow. “You walked this way before, so I was waiting here to see if you came by again. You did shove a random unknown object into my arms before running off into imminent death.”

The realisation hits hard. The mysterious object Dr. Tobias had given him, the last errand Cinder had given him. He’d totally forgotten in the dreary aftermath of that night. He slaps his forehead and immediately regrets it. “Ow. Oh heck, I’d forgotten.”

Pichu laughs. “I don’t know how important that thing is to you, but it seemed strange enough to keep. So I put it in a tree nearby, if you still want it.”

If he still wanted it? Tymon pulls his lips into a small line. His rational brain told him no, but his emotional heart brought to mind the visceral reaction Lore had had to the thing. Was it really that important? Was it dangerous? Regardless, one thing shone at the forefront of his mind.

_It was Cinder’s last gift._

To Cinder, from Tobias. The doctor entrusting something so unknown to Cinder, Tymon couldn’t imagine leaving it behind to sit in a tree. His stares at Pichu. “Yes.”

\---

The object is indeed put in a tree, shelved away in a hollow that makes it almost invisible unless you were looking directly inside. He eases It out slowly, thinking it feels just a bit warmer than the last time he had held it. It’s a comforting warmth, and Tymon cradles it in his arms like a newborn. “Thank you.”

“No prob. What are you even going to do with it though? It’s a rock.” The Pichu leans against the hollow tree with chill unfitting for the situation.

“I… don’t know. But it’s important. I can feel it.” He shifts the weight between his arms and frowns. He makes a mental note to get a backpack as soon as possible. Holding such a thing for too long would wear his arms out easily.

Pichu pushes off the tree. “Hm. Whatever you say. Just haul it around whatever grand adventure you’ve planned for yourself.”

“I don’t have much of a plan actually. All I have to go off is some advice a friend gave me.” Tymon replies.

“And what’s that?”

“To get stronger. There’s someone I want to find, but if I ever want to confront him I need to be stronger than I am. So he recommended I take on the Gyms.” Pichu splutters at his reply.

“You can’t be serious, right? You wanna fight _all_ of them?” He scratches at his hair. “Even I’m not that insane.”

Tymon makes an indignant face. “Not _all_ of them, just a few. To toughen up.”

“Hell, now I wanna what kinda person requires fighting Gyms to meet. Must be one helluva guy.” Pichu sighs. “First a burning building, now this. You really have a death wish, don’t you?”

Tymon shrugs and begins to walk back towards the path. Pichu jogs to catch up. “I mean it. A guy like you is just gonna get chewed up and spat out. You _shrieked_ when I zapped you. What are you gonna do against a Leader?”

“I did not _shriek._ ” Tymon rebuts. “Besides, I think most people would object to being assaulted while travelling. As for the Leader… I’ll train.”

Pichu snorts. “Do you even know how to train?”

“…I’ll figure it out.”

Tymon skids to a stop when Pichu grabs the back of his vest. He turns to the Electric type. “What?”

“You have gotta be the craziest motherfucker I’ve ever met. I can tell just looking at you that you can barely use Moves and you expect to take on a _Gym_.” His tone is reprimanding, Tymon feels like he should be offended being lectured by someone clearly younger than him, but there’s a bite of truth to his words that stop him. Pichu smirks. “Alright, I’m in.”

“…Huh?”

“Are you deaf? I said I’m in.” Pichu replies. He bats Tymon on the chest. “You’re gonna be on one helluva ride and I wanna be there for it. Gyms are tough, I considered doing them myself too, at one point. What better dude to do them with than someone as crazy as me.”

He holds out a hand. “Proper introduction time. Frankie, Frankie Ames.”

Tymon looks between the hand and Pichu’s, Frankie’s, face, scrutinising for any dishonesty. Seeing none, he grabs the offered hand. “Tymon Dunbar.”

“Tymon, eh? I’m still gonna call you Water Boy.” He shakes firmly, and Tymon swears he can feel electricity as pins and needles in his hand.

_(+1 Cool Scar Get!)_

__

_(Frankie joined the party!)_

\---

Cherrygrove is as uneventful as Tymon had left it, even in the daytime. Tymon avoids the hospital centre like the plague, instead opting to follow Frankie to the neighbouring mart. The kind that supplies general goods, Tymon knows from some errands. “Hungry?”

“Well… yes. But that’s not the only thing.” Frankie says. The sliding doors open and the two enter the building. Frankie immediately beelines to a specific shelf and starts piling things at random into his arms. “How much cash have you got?”

Tymon scrutinises the objects in Frankie’s hold before pulling out his wallet. A few notes greet him back when he opens it, but it’s nothing special – Cinder had handled most purchases in their family. He sighs and counts them. “A few thousand? What are you even buying?”

“That’ll be enough.” Frankie hauls his load over to the cashier, dumping them rather unceremoniously on the counter much to the deadpan glare he received from the worker. Tymon picks up one of the items. It’s a sort of disposable spray with a purple liquid inside. Frankie takes it back to put with the others. “Never had to use Potions, huh?”

“No, I have.” Tymon does know them. Cinder used to have a stock in the house since Tymon fell over often as a child.

“This stuff is pretty weak, but it’ll be enough for us - oh!” Frankie quickly does some math in his head before dashing to another isle for a few seconds before returning with a rather sturdy but cheap-looking backpack. He whispers behind his hand as he places the pack with the other items. “For… you know…”

Ah, yes. The object under Tymon’s arm is still heavy and rather conspicuous, a backpack is a wise choice. Tymon pays the cashier, stashing the object and the Potions into the backpack. His wallet feels exponentially lighter than before, even if it was just notes, and he sighs as they leave. Surely Cinder puts funds somewhere, but for the moment they were nowhere to be found. Not until the authorities bothered to unearth Cinder’s will wherever he hid it. Frankie notices the look on his face and elbows him. “Don’t worry about cash, it’s easy to make in the Gym industry. The rewards are _huge_.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t see how we would even stand a chance if we’re starving and tired.” Tymon replies. Food and shelter… things Frankie probably knows enough about to do well on his own, but Tymon? No idea.

“Huh? Don’t you know?” Frankie inquires, his eyebrows reaching for his hairline. “There’s an unwritten rule between competitors. Beat them in a fight and they have to hand over a cash prize. Easy way to make money on the road.”

“Wh- _Brawling_? Really?” The thought is incredulous, though Tymon figures it makes sense. “I don’t know if I could beat someone up for money…”

“You _aren’t_ beating up someone for money. What are we, bullies? It’s a mutual battle and the money is the prize. Think of it like practice for the real thing.” Frankie stretches his shoulders and looks out onto the following route. Route 30. Beyond that, Violet City. The closest Gym to New Bark Town. Suddenly the idea of challenging a Gym is a little too close for comfort. “Speaking of which, what Moves do you know?”

Tymon sweats just a little, staring down at his palms. His first elemental Move had manifested under such a arduous situation, the idea of doing it again made his heart beat against his chest. “Uh, the usual, I suppose…”

“Okay so like, Tackle? Pound?” Frankie grabs one of Tymon’s hands and examines his nails, filed down but still considerably long. “…Scratch.”

“You think?”

“Oh yeah. You sharpen these a little bit and they’ll do some damage.” He lets go of Tymon’s wrist. “You’re a bit lucky, to be honest. I don’t have the physical ability to do any of those kinda physical Moves.”

Tymon recalls the zap he received when they first met. “Magic user, huh.”

Frankie nods. “Best of both worlds, you’ve got. A Water Move too, right? I doubt you would run into a burning building without at least knowing one.”

The Totodile feels a sudden need to look away, instead concentrating on the road ahead. Frankie examines his face before his own pales. “You’re kidding right? You’re even _worse_ than I thought.”

“I was desperate.” Tymon replies, a tinge of indignation staining his tone. He speeds up his pace a little. “I _do_ know a Water Move, if you must know.”

“Alright, show me.”

Tymon stops. “Eh?”

Frankie pats his own chest. “Hit me with your best shot.”

“Uh…” Tymon fiddles with his fingers. “Are you sure?”

“What, is it a piddly little attack like Bubble?” Frankie taunts. He beats his chest again. “Come on Water Boy, gimme your best go.”

Tymon sighs. He points his finger at Frankie, discomfort visible in his brow. Trying to recapture the feeling, he feels heat on the back of his neck. Just get rid of the fire. Douse it. He concentrates on Frankie’s unruly blonde hair. If he squints, he can imagine it as a flame, flickering in the light breeze. Douse it. Get rid of it.

More fire dances in Tymon’s peripheral, his forehead beginning to sweat profusely. Push it back. Protect. Concentrate. The water runs under his skin, manifesting in his fingertip, pressuring, consuming. His head burns, he’s being burned alive.

Douse it. Get rid of it. Protect. Push it back. The roar in his ears is too much. He can’t breathe.

Can’t breathe. _Can’t breathe._

Frankie flies across the clearing to hit a tree with an _oof_ , hit squarely in the chest by the attack Tymon fires. He sits up, winded. “Well that- that was a bit more of a punch than I th… thought. Hoo!”

He gets to his feet with some difficulty, hunching over with a bit of effort as he hobbles over to Tymon. Frankie pats Tymon on the shoulder, the latter jumping at the touch as his gaze focuses back in front of him. “I seem to have underestimated you.”

Tymon looks him up and down before noticing how he hunches over. “Oh! Oh no, I didn’t actually hurt you, did I? Here, give me your arm-“

Tymon hooks Frankie’s arm over his shoulder and helps him along. The Pichu just gives a throaty laugh. “Feel like I’m gonna bruise but that’s good. You hit pretty hard.”

They walk along in silence. Eventually, Frankie regains his breath enough to walk on his own and they continue in silence again. Tymon’s fists ball, enough to stab his blunt nails into his palms, and walks almost robotically. He doesn’t want to say anything, doesn’t want to acknowledge what he saw. A hand grabs the back of his shirt and he jumps. "Who the hell put a stick up your ass?”

Seeing Tymon walk so stiffly got on Frankie’s nerves. “You got a guilt complex? It’s not my first time being thrown back by a Move, y’know.”

Tymon looks to the floor. “It’s not that.”

The Pichu scrunches up his face, analysing Tymon’s guilt-addled expression. A moment of realisation flashes across his face and Frankie rubs the back of his hair. “Ah geez. Emotional power, huh? I’m not gonna pry but just know that’s not a good place to fight from.”

“Really?”

“ _Obviously_. If someone fights with anger, what happens when they mellow out? Become piss-weak, that’s what they become.” Frankie crosses his arms. “Too many people nowadays fight that way. It’s gross.”

Fighting with anger. No, that’s not what Tymon would describe it as. Shame? Guilt? Grief? There’s probably an entire thesaurus that could describe his turmoil. “Even the Leaders?”

“No, not them I don’t think,” Frankie ponders. “But definitely many of the competitors I’ve seen. It’s an ugly way to fight.”

Voices sound in the distance, and Frankie’s ears immediately perk up at the sound. He immediately crouches in the undergrowth, pulling Tymon down with him. “Wha-“

“Shh!” The Pichu silences him and stalks forward. The voices grow in volume as they creep closer. The owners come into view slowly but surely. They’re hulking bodies, though from this distance the two can tell they’re unevolved. Tymon inspects their characteristics, noting the large ears on one and pair of wings on the others. A Rattata and a Pidgey, if he had to guess. A third person is blocked by their bodies, considerably shorter and holding themselves like they want to make themselves smaller.

“Come on, sweetheart. Don’t you want to hang out?” The Rattata says. His Pidgey friend chuckles in agreement. “Come hang out with us Gym competitors. It’ll be fun.”

The third person holds themselves closer. “U-Uh… I appreciate the offer, but I must get going…”

The voice is feminine, and distinctly young. Something about her tone distinctly reminds Tymon of himself, and his throat closes up. The young girl attempts to move past the two larger men, but one catches her by the elbow, and she yelps. In an instant, and aura surrounds her and pushes the man off her just enough for her to wiggle out of his hold. **Defense Curl,** Tymon notes. The Rattata holding her scrunches his face in anger. “You little- Throwing me off like that. You wanna use Moves, huh? _Let’s use them, shall we_?!”

Seeing the Rattata raise his hand in retaliation is enough for an uncharacteristic feeling to flow through Tymon’s limbs. In an instant, he dashes from the undergrowth to intercept the strike, feeling the Rattata’s fist collide with his cheek in a teeth-clattering hit that he swears rattles his brain around in his head. Blood pools on his tongue; he’s bitten his cheek. From the undergrowth, Frankie hurries over. “What the _hell_ did we just talk about fighting impulsively? _Geez._ ”

“Who the fuck are you?” The Rattata yells. Tymon spits blood on the grass and wipes his mouth. What the hell, indeed. The jittering feeling in his body feels similar to before he ran into the fire, though he decides it feels distinctly different running into danger for a stranger. The girl behind him sucks in a breath and walks backwards, only to trip and fall onto the ground with a cry.

“Woah! Hey!” Frankie helps the girl to her feet. He points a finger at the accosting duo. “What the _hell_ are you doing?”

“It doesn’t concern you, _pipsqueak_. Who do you think you are, butting into other people’s business?” The Rattata rebuts. Frankie splutters at the insult.

“You wanna go? You wanna fucking go? I’ll fight you. _I will._ ” Frankie taunts. Size wise, the Rattata outsizes Frankie by a few feet. Not the most ideal matchup, but Frankie doesn’t seem to care.

Tymon tugs on his shoulder when he makes to move. The swelling in his cheek hurts like hell, but he can’t help but feel like Frankie is going to get off worse. “I’ll… I’ll fight. Practice, right?”

The Pichu scoffs. “You’re lucky to have all your teeth right now. By all means, kick his ass. I’m going to fight Birdo over there instead.”

Tymon steps between the two and the Rattata as Frankie advances on Pidgey. He’d be fine there; he has the advantage. The Rattata glares down at him. “You’ve really _pissed me off_.”

“You shouldn’t be harassing women.” Tymon replies. The sentence slips out of him naturally, though intentionally provoking another isn’t something he’s done much, or even wanted to. His smart reply earns him another fist that he can’t dodge. This time a sharp pain shoots through his nose, and red drips onto his chin. Yet somehow, the hit only riles him up more.

Tymon briefly considers using Water Gun but decides against it. The last thing he needs is to dissociate in front of a person intent on breaking his face. He manages to dodge a blow at last, swiping haphazardly with his blunt claws across the other’s face. It does some damage, though the bluntness only tears in some places in a terribly jagged way, across the other’s cheek and lip. He’s retaliated with a blow to his gut, winding him. Tymon keels over, desperate to not lose his dinner. Again, that feeling resonates from the point of contact through his whole body. It makes him fight back, it makes him angry.

He recognises the feeling. **Rage**. Wanting to return the hit even harder. Since when had he felt this violent? A small hand on his shoulder prompts him to sit up. The girl’s at his side, worry etched into her face, and Tymon can see she’s young, too young. A teenager at best. And yet she was being harassed by older men. The feelings inside intensify with his repulsion, his horror at the situation. _How disgusting._

Tymon returns the hit to Rattata in full, and then some. Frankie’s voice vaguely echoes in the background, like Tymon is surrounded by a thick cloak of fog. It rings in his ears along with the sound of his own laboured breathing.

“…y! Hey! He’s knocked out!” Frankie’s words make its way through his fog-addled mind, and Tymon stops a punch he didn’t realise he was throwing. Underneath him, the Rattata fades into view, unconscious and bruised with a busted lip. With a yelp, Tymon leaps off the man to scuttle back on the grass. Nearby, the Pidgey lays frazzled and unconscious also. Frankie squats next to him and examines his bruised fists. “Geez. You really lay into him.”

Tymon pull his fist away and holds it to his chest. It hurts, his sore bones and muscles screaming as his Rage fades away. Shame pales his face and he looks away. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Dude deserved it.” Frankie states. He pulls Tymon to his feet before crossing his arms. “Though it may have been a _bit_ of an overreaction. Was that Rage?”

Tymon nods and Frankie clicks his tongue. “That’s… well, dangerous. Maybe we should stay away from that for now.”

Tymon nods again in agreement. They turn to the girl, Tymon expecting her to look horrified. Seeing her properly now, she’s a Featureless, unlike Tymon with his tail, or Frankie with his ears, which makes it difficult to identify her. She looks a little shaken up but breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“You’re… welcome. Sorry if we scared you a little.” Frankie responds. Despite what had occurred, the atmosphere still feels somewhat awkward. “Well, we should go.”

“Eh- Wait!” She calls. She clasps her hands to her chest. “You guys… are you competitors too?”

Frankie shrugs. “Not yet. We were gonna enlist in Violet City.”

Her eyes light up. “Could I… maybe travel with you?”

She plays with her hair as she looks down at the two unconscious men. “Those two… said they would help me out but then… Anyway. Please?”

“ _You_ want to enlist in the League?” Frankie asks incredulously. He corrects himself in an instant. “By that I mean, you are aware how dangerous the Gyms are, right?”

“Of course.” She replies, still fiddling with her hair. “But they’re supposed to make you stronger, right? I couldn’t even protect myself from two perverts… I want to be able to.”

Despite her meek appearance, the determination in her eyes is completely different. Weak, yet strong-willed. Hell, if it worked out well for Tymon so far, why not with this mystery girl as well? Tymon musters up the best smile he can despite his aching cheeks. “Of course.”

Frankie makes to interject before the two of them are abruptly hugged by the girl. “Th..Thank you! I won’t let you down! I’m Kara, you probably can’t tell but I’m an Igglybuff. Hopefully I’ll get my ears someday.”

_(Kara joined the party!)_


	4. Elucidation

Several Apricorns fall to the ground in the tremor of marching feet. In the distance, a small house comes into view. The door is kicked in, a stream of people entering the small space without warning.

The man sitting at his table is terrified, his face restrained to the table surface. “What do you want? Who are you?! How dare you enter my house like this-“

His sentence is interrupted by a boot kicking his chair out from under him. The man tumbles to the floor, his older body groaning at the impact. His head spins as he makes out the person above him. A frightening silhouette with two large, leathery wings block out most of the light behind him. He’s only given a split second to recover before that same boot is stomped onto his chest. “Where is it?”

“I… have no idea what you’re t…talking about…” He wheezes out the words, trying desperately to budge the foot digging into his solar plexus. In response, the other man pushes harder.

“That’s not the answer I wanted.” He lifts his foot, only to immediately swing it into the older man’s side, who them attempts to get on his knees long enough to retch. He grabs the older man by the back of his neck. “Where is it, Dr. Tobias?”

\---

Route 30 and 31 are about as boring as they are short. Grass and more grass, lined by tall trees, only the occasional battle to spice up the trio's trek toward the city ahead of them. Even now, the peaks of roofs are visible over the tree canopy in the distance, nestled near a pile of rock Tymon is sure is a cave or something similar. He puts this observation into his mind for later. He focuses ahead, listening to the soft footsteps of his two companions behind him.

_"Do you live far from here, Kara?" Frankie had asked, his face just the slightest bit red as he talked to the girl._

_"Not really…" Kara admitted. She held herself modestly, folding her hands in front of her and her head down. She played with the hem of her dress. "I live in Cherrygrove. Though I don't particularly want to go back."_

_Tymon's mind defaulted to the worst-case scenario. "Oh, your family?"_

_Kara bit her lip. "They aren't cruel to me, but I feel like a doormat when they're around. I can't say no even when I want to."_

That final sentence had sealed the deal for the two on bringing her along. Tymon could relate to what she said, almost too deeply for their own good. He received a berating from Frankie after admitting this to him. "Hopeless! Both of you!"

It could not be helped, now their duo was a trio and Kara made up the end of their little travel pack as she trails after the other two. After a brief chat, she had revealed herself to be sixteen, and in context of where they had met, the scenario now seemed even more awful. Even remembering it brought nausea bubbling away in Tymon's stomach like acid. Frankie’s reaction even worse, a string of curse words falling from his mouth without pause.

The rocky peaks come into view, the cave below them opening wide like a yawn. A chill runs up Tymon’s spine. He’d never been a fan of caves, for obvious reasons. How light seemed to fall away just metres into the cave never stood right with him. His worry seems to be ignored by the others unfortunately for him as Frankie jogs over to the cave entrance and peers inside. “Hm… yep. Totally dark. Pitch black.”

“Let’s not bother then. Violet City is close by.” Tymon replies, but as he turns to leave Frankie’s face splits into a wide grin.

“Scared of the dark too, are you?”

Tymon’s cheeks flush a little. “N-No. But trying to navigate a cave like that is a waste of time.”

The Pichu’s grin does not falter. In fact, it seems to grow even bigger. In a flash, he grabs Tymon’s arm and yanks him through the cave opening and into the dark, all the while cackling lowly. Tymon digs his feet into the dirt. “Hey!”

“Uh, I’m just going to wait out here.” Kara’s voice drifts from the cave mouth. At least one of the group had common sense.

Frankie pulls Tymon along, the light from the cave mouth slowly becoming smaller and smaller. The Totodile blanches, his other arm outstretched to see if he can feel anything. “Frankie, this isn’t funny.”

“You’re right, it’s hilari-AH!” Frankie’s sentence is cut short as he pitches forward, a metallic clang echoing off the cave walls, and Tymon falls over with him. They collapse over something solid and unmoving, falling into a heap of limbs.

“Ugh, get your reptilian ass off me!”

“Well _maybe_ if you stop waving your arms around- ptoo! _Stop waving your tail too._ ”

“Then _move_.”

“I’m _TRYING._ ”

After some effort and a lot of confusion, the two manage to pick themselves off the ground. Frankie nudges the unknown entity with his foot, which makes a less dramatic metal ting. “Hell, this thing weighs a ton.”

Tymon kneels to the ground and feels around. The entity feels humanoid, with arms connected to a torso with a neck and face. When he tries to pull up the entity, the body feels heavy and solid in his hands. Definitely metal. Perhaps a Steel-type gone astray and fainted. Handing his backpack to Frankie, he hefts the person onto his back with a little effort, immediately wheezing under how heavy they feel. Yet the person was so small, almost the size of a child. Truly, Steel-types were something.

Plonking one foot after the other, he and Frankie make their way back to the glowing cave entrance, somewhat obscured by Kara’s silhouette. She gasps upon seeing the person on Tymon’s back, and it’s only when their eyes adjust to the light that they realise why.

The person is definitely child-sized; however, they could not look any further from a child. Their entire body is armoured by cold steel, electricity whirring underneath the plates. Their arms have no hands, but rather socket plugs that resemble those on home appliances. The face is vaguely humanoid, with only two blacked out eyes and no other discernible features. Overall, they gave the general _impression_ of a human, while simultaneously unnerving all three of them in how un-human they looked. Even Steel-types bled after all, but this was no regular Steel-type.

“Who is that?” Kara inquired.

Frankie rolled his eyes. “Dunno. We tripped over them.”

“ _You_ tripped over them.” Tymon corrected. He adjusts the entity on his back and starts to walk. “They were passed out in the dark, though. Violet City has a hospital so it’s the least we can do to take them there.”

Kara’s lips form a thin line, but she says nothing. Instead she grabs the back of Frankie’s hoodie and trails behind him like she means to hide.

Fortunately, the remaining trek to Violet City only takes about half an hour, and Tymon hauls their fainted stranger over to the hospital. The staff give them strange looks as they assessed the metal entity, but ultimately put them on a bed and wheeled them to the Steel specialty ward.

The hospital has a map of the city on the wall by the door, and Tymon examines it thoroughly. Frankie jabs a finger towards a large building in the middle. “That’s the Gym there. I’ve been here before.”

“I wasn’t looking for the Gym.” Tymon explains. He traces a finger from the hospital up to another large building. “Aha.”

“What is it?”

“Accommodation.” Tymon replies. “I’m not sleeping outside if we can avoid it. I have more than enough money from earlier to get us two rooms.”

He pats the rather sizeable wallet in his pocket, gloriously heavy from street winnings after Frankie had spent the lot on medicine back in Cherrygrove. Frankie narrows his eyes. “Why two?”

“Well, it was going to be one initially but then Kara tagged along. We can’t make her stay with us. _Obviously_.” Frankie’s cheeks tint pink at Tymon’s words. He stutters out an agreement and the trio leave the hospital behind them.

The hotel itself is nothing to write home about, but it’s comfortable and clean and keeps them from sleeping in the rain. Frankie collapses on the neatly made bed almost immediately and ruins the creaseless surface, giving a big sigh as the mattress sinks under him. “Y’know, I’d almost forgotten what sleeping in a bed is like.”

“Really? You were in that forest that long?” Tymon puts his backpack on the dresser and runs and hand through his hair. The gel had since lost its hold and it felt kind of gross under his fingers. “Ugh, I’m going to shower. Unless you want to be acquainted with a shower again as well?”

Frankie snorts. “I _did_ bathe in the woods, just so you know. Rivers exist. What do you take me for?”

Tymon takes it as a no and pulls a towel out of a cupboard. “Even if rivers exist, they don’t have _soap_. You can go in after me.”

The bathroom is small, having only a shower, toilet, and sink. Tymon catches his reflection in the mirror and does a double-take. It had only been a few days since the fire, but the burn over his temple had faded to a darker red, no longer super painful to the touch. Despite their lack of Burn Heals, Frankie had insisted on Tymon using the Potions they’d bought to treat the area, and it seemed to be doing the trick. He ran a finger over the dark circles under his eyes and frowned. Potions weren’t going to fix _that_.

He showers quickly, hissing whenever water hit a cut or scratch, and was out in a few minutes. Tymon slinks a bath robe around him, tying it off and tossing a towel at Frankie on his way back into the room. The Pichu catches it after it hits him in the face, yelling something at Tymon that he didn’t quite catch as he falls onto his own bed. Within moments, he feels himself drifting off. In his dreams, he sees nothing.

\---

Tymon is rudely awoken by Frankie tearing off his blanket. Disgruntled, he tugs them back over himself. “Ngh, stop.”

“No dude, get up.” Frankie replies, pulling the blanket off again and his eyebrows soar towards his hairline. “Hell, do you always sleep in basically nothing?”

“Wh- _Huh_?” He’s awake fully now, a flush rising up his cheeks as he realises he had literally gone to sleep without even changing. “Oh, for the love of- _Give me five minutes please_.”

Frankie raises his hands and turns to the wall. Tymon hurriedly makes himself presentable, a record in itself considering how meticulous his appearance for work used to be. Compared to that, his hurried outfit of a half-buttoned shirt and pants would make his past-self cower in shame. He quickly pushed his hair out of his face and Frankie turned back around. “Why can’t you wake up people like a normal person? What time is it even?”

“Oh _hey_ , you look a lot more chill like tha-“

“Frankie!”

“Okay, calm yourself. Jeez. The hospital called. That person you brought seems to uh, not be a person after all. Not even a Steel type.”

It’s Tymon’s turn to make his eyebrows rise. He rubs the back of his head. “That is… Hm.”

“You don’t think it has anything to do with _that_ , do you?” Frankie gestures his head towards the backpack. Tymon shakes his head.

“No, I don’t think so. But then again, things emulating type characteristics can’t be a coincidence, right?” Tymon replies, earning a shrug in return. He sighs. “Regardless, we should probably go over. Who knows what that thing is if it isn’t a person?”

He fixes up his appearance to his usual standard and leaves the room. They both hesitate at Kara’s door, but decide against it and leave her be. If things went well, they wouldn’t be gone for long anyway.

It’s still early in the morning when they get to the hospital, only the morning shift staff and some early visitors in the lobby. Checking in, they head to the Steel specialty ward. Even at the early hour, there’s a decent amount of activity, and Tymon and Frankie quickly find the room of their mystery non-person.

They’re still unconscious, unsurprisingly. The staff had put them in the hospital cot despite knowing their inhuman nature, and the normalcy of such an act was… curious to say the least. Tymon takes the chair next to the bed while Frankie leans against the wall. On closer inspection, they see that the situation isn’t as normal as from afar. There’s no monitors tracking vitals, no IV drips in their body. Only paste-on conductors Tymon knew were common in treating Electric types when they suffered from electricity shortages.

“Think they’re an Electric type?” Tymon gestures to the conductors and Frankie nods.

“Either that or some kind of… machine, I guess. But who the hell can make humanoid machines?” Frankie looks at the ceiling with a kind of disdain and hums. “To be honest… that would be kind of freaky. Cool, but freaky.”

Tymon looks at the thing’s face and gets the inexplicable urge to touch it now knowing it’s not human. Scientific progression had always interested him, but not so much in the field of robotics. Irrelevant to his eventual integration into the New Bark team, he’d told himself. His lips thin a little. So much for that, might as well indulge himself in everything now.

He puts a hand on the thing’s shoulder and immediately yanks it back. The metal… was warm? He slowly put it back again, and sure enough the metal was a much more comfortable temperature than when he had found it in the cave. In addition to that, there’s a soft hum from under the surface that vibrates into his fingers. Tymon’s eyes widen. It _is_ a machine, after all, feeling and sounding like a computer. Which mean there has to be an ON button somewhere, right? Tymon gets out of the chair and starts inspecting everywhere he can see.

“What are you doing?” Frankie asks, his eyebrow raised.

“It’s a machine, you can feel it whirring.” Tymon sits the humanoid up and spots a small round button at the crown of the ‘skull’. “I’m going to turn it on.”

Frankie pushes himself off the wall. “Wait, you serious? If it is, you don’t know what it can do. It could go haywire!”

His words fell on deaf ears as Tymon pushes the button. Almost immediately, the eyes on the front of the head begin to glow, though the left eye quickly flickers and goes dark. The single eye that remains stares at the wall ahead, before seeming to take notice of Tymon beside him. “IDENTIFY YOURSELF.”

The humanoid speaks in a monotonous, robotic voice that reminds Tymon of the text-to-speech Cinder used to use when he couldn’t find his glasses. He closes the mouth he didn’t know was open. “Uh, Tymon Dunbar.”

“IDENTIFICATION DETECTED. NEW ADMINISTRATOR ADDED: ‘TYMON DUNBAR’.”

“Wait, what?” Tymon cries. The humanoid gets out of the hospital cot to stand in front of him.

“LOADING… FACTORY SETTINGS RESET. WELCOME, TYMON DUNBAR.”

Frankie stares at the machine like it spawned another head. “What. Is that.”

The machine doesn’t take notice of Frankie’s question, choosing to stand in front of Tymon vacantly. It stands stock-still, save for the occasional flicker of its dead right eye. Tymon looks frantically at Frankie, who only gestures at him to do _something_.

“Uh, what are you?” He fumbles.

The machine stands a little straighter. “THIS IS A NEURAL ELUCIDATING LATENCY SYSTEM.”

Neural Elucidating Latency system. Some kind of… brain machine then, Tymon figures. Still, it wasn’t really a name, and the system name was too long.

“N.E.L… how about we call you Nel?” Tymon offers. He swears the machine’s eye flickers happily.

“NEL… SUBSTITUTE NAME ACCEPTED.”

Well, that was one thing down. Frankie gestures again wildly, but Tymon gets the hint this time.

“Where did you come from?”

“MEMORY BANK IS DAMAGED.”

“Oh, okay. Who made you?”

“MEMORY BANK IS DAMAGED.”

Tymon sighs. This wasn’t going anywhere. “Your function is to do with brains, right? Do you conduct research?”

Nel cocks their head. “THE FUNCTION OF THE NEURAL ELUCIDATING SYSTEM IS TO AUGMENT EXISTING ABILITY.”

“It does _what_?” Frankie yells. He hurries over. “Hey, you. What do you mean by that?”

Nel doesn’t respond. Frankie throws up his hands. “Oh, for fu- Can you make me an admin too or something, this is frustrating.”

Tymon cuts him off. “Okay Nel, what do you mean by augmenting ‘existing ability’?”

“PLEASE TURN AROUND.”

“Huh? Okay.” Tymon turns around, much to Frankie’s exasperation.

“Hey, you aren’t just supposed to do everything the weird robot says what if it’s-“ Tymon does not get to hear the end of Frankie’s sentence as _something_ jabs his spine and his whole back lights up in pain. In an instant, his vision disappears, and he loses all sensation in his body. In that void, he can feel his brain go haywire, like someone was poking it with a hot iron repeatedly while yelling the contents of a whole textbook at him. Things he definitely did not know how to do suddenly appeared in his brain as if he’d studied them for years. Yet as soon as they appeared, they disappeared, over and over and over again.

He comes to facedown on the hospital floor, distantly hearing Frankie scuffling around trying to push Nel away from him. At his garble, Frankie abandons pushing Nel in favour of helping Tymon up. “Hey man, you okay? That shitty thing just stabbed you in the back! I _told_ you to not just obey the weird robot and you didn’t _listen_ to me!”

“What?” Tymon’s voice is slurred, and he slumps into the bedside chair again. “My brain… feels fuzzy.”

“No shit, that thing probably tried to fry your brain. Jeez, for a Water type you really are careless around Electric types.” Frankie nudges Tymon’s shoulders to get him to budge forward. “Lean forward, I’m gonna have a look.”

Tymon simply plants his face against Frankie’s chest while the latter tugs up the back of his shirt to examine the damage. The shirt would definitely need to be mended, but Frankie sees no blood on Tymon’s back, only two pairs of reddened marks at the middle and base of Tymon’s spine. “That’s. Super weird. But at least you aren’t bleeding.”

“Mn.”

“Intelligent. Thanks for your input.” He pulls Tymon’s shirt back down before turning to Nel. “Alright you piece of shit, what did you do?”

Nel’s eye swivels between Tymon and Frankie. “ADMINISTRATOR COMPROMISED. IDENTIFY YOURSELF.”

“Oh so you’re gonna go after me now? We since you’re a deaf asshole when you want to be I don’t have a choice, do I?” He exhales in frustration. “Frankie Ames.”

“ALTERNATIVE ADMINISTRATOR IDENTIFIED. NEW ADMINSTRATOR ADDED: ‘FRANKIE AMES’.”

“Okay, Nel. What did you do?”

Nel’s waves their plug-like appendages. “NEL ONLY DID THE INTENDED SYSTEM FUNCTION OF NEURAL ELUCIDATING.”

Frankie furrows his brows. “Care to explain that in words I would know?”

“NEL RESPONDED TO KEYWORD ‘AUGMENT’, AND PERFORMED NEURAL ELUCIDATION AS REQUESTED. ADMINISTRATOR ‘TYMON DUNBAR’ NOW HAS ACCESS TO LATENT ABILITIES OTHERWISE INACCESSIBLE.”

“…Huh.” Frankie crossed his arms. So, the machine was able to unlock things that were usually inaccessible to a person. But what did it do to Tymon? “What did you do for Tymon?”

“NEL WAS ABLE TO UNLOCK A MOVE TO HANDLE COMBAT DISADVANTAGE. ADMINISTRATOR ‘TYMON DUNBAR’ HOLDS GREAT RESENTMENT TOWARDS GRASS TYPES, SO NEL ACTED ACCORDINGLY AND ELUCIDATED A MOVE TO ASSIST ADMINISTRATOR ‘TYMON DUNBAR’ IN COMBAT.”

A new move. Not that Tymon needed it, if Frankie was being honest, but type coverage was a tactic that was vital in surviving the League. He considered it for a moment. “Hey, what about me?”

Nel looked him up and down. “ADMINISTRATOR ‘FRANKIE AMES’ DOES NOT REQUIRE COMBAT ASSISTANCE.”

He almost felt himself puff up with pride on that one, but at the same time was pissed. “Oh, so Tymon gets a cool move and I don’t. I see how it is.”

“ADMINISTRATOR ‘FRANKIE AMES’ MAY INQUIRE ABOUT ELUCIDATION AT A LATER DATE.”

“Okay fine, you can just say ‘no’, y’know.” Frankie says. He looks over Nel again while rubbing his chin. “Though, that implies that you think you’re gonna come with us.”

“IT IS THE PURPOSE OF THE NEURAL ELUCIDATING SYSTEM TO ASSIST ADMINISTRATORS IN BATTLE GROWTH.”

Frankie slings Tymon’s arm over his shoulder and helps the Totodile out. “Yeah, whatever you bunch of bolts.”

_(Nel joined the party!)_


End file.
